Toy Soldiers and the Curse of Loyalty
by Whats My Dere
Summary: OneShot - Ever wonder how things would have turned out if England was able to use magic for real? Me too! So I wrote a story about it. Distorted timeline story. Magical!Yandere!British Empire!England. One-sided USUK (AmeCan) Inspired by the song "Toy Soldiers" by Marianas Trench.


**-(WMD)-**

**This story is actually an AmeCan but most of it is seen through England's prospective.**

**I would have added England in the character listing, but last time I did that, FF put my story in the America/Britain category since it went alphabetically and alot of people were disillusioned when my story ****wasn't USUK.**

**The story is like a timeline fic that is (_not_ historically accurate.)**

**This is just something I wrote because I was inspired by the song Toy Soldiers by Marianas Trench.**

**Everytime I hear it, I'm reminded of England and Colony!America for some reason.**

**I've hidden _most_ of the lyrics within the story. **

**If you have never heard the song, that's okay! It won't affect the story.**

**(This story is not a background for my other AmeCan stories, nor is it related to them in any way.)**

***Sorry the cover picture is a bit blurry, no matter what I tried, I couldn't fix it.***

_**'Thoughts' **_**"Speech"**

**~(TS)~ = Time Skip**

**-(SC)- = Scene Change**

**xXx**

**This story is dedicated to my USUK loving sister, who wouldn't stop replaying this song over and over to me a few months ago! **

**Thanks alot, sis! DX**

**xXx** - oOo - oOo - **xXx - _xXx_ - xXx - xXx - _xXx_ - xXx** - oOo - oOo - **xXx**

**Toy Soldiers **

**and the **

**Curse of Loyalty **

He was there again, laying amongst the tall green grasses of the wide open plains. A plethora of wildflowers had their faces turned upward and seemed to be reaching out toward the breathtakingly beautiful azure sky. It was so peaceful there, so perfect, and so foreign. The New World. That's what they were calling it. Full of life and promise.

England breathed in the scent of the wild wonder around him. The warm and sunny weather had a sort of calming effect. He closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth.

A shadow appeared overhead, causing a cool to settle on his face. England slowly opened his forest green eyes and looked up. It was that child again. That child with the bright blue eyes and curious face. The wheat blonde hair and delicate skin. He was the picture of innocence. With the sun outlining his features, he looked almost angelic.

The scene slowly faded to white and England was brought back to consciousness. He could hear the songbirds chirping happily outside of his window as if welcoming the new day. The Englishman sighed as he lifted his hand and brushed it into his messy blonde hair.

"I had that dream again…" He mumbled as he stared out the window at the ocean. It had been a recurring dream that he had been having for awhile now. Ever since they had found proof of another continent to the west.

There was an expedition sailing out in a few days in search of this "New World."

"Perhaps I should accompany my people this time. I have a good feeling about this particular trip." England said aloud to nobody in general. He had been back in his homeland for nearly a month now, but he was already itching to leave again. There was just so much he wanted to do. And finding this "New World" was at the very top of his list… right below humiliating France of course.

**~(TS)~**

They had been sailing for a lifetime it seemed, when at last, a lush beautiful landscape rose above the horizon. The New World. Finally, they had made it. Unfortunately, that damn France had met them half way there and decided to tag along, whether they liked it or not.

Both ships had anchored a little ways offshore, and now England and France were sinking their boots into the soft sandy beach. It was truly breath-taking. This place. This New World. It was just how he dreamed it would be. Now, if only he could explore without being hindered by the Frenchman getting in his way.

No such luck. They had traveled with each other for days and were now observing a stunning grassy plain filled with native wildflowers. It was just like in his dream. He recognized this place. England took the time to let the warm sunlight soak into his skin as he reveled in the reality of this moment. France was too busy making his little maps of the area to enjoy, just how beautiful this place was. England rolled his eyes and walked away from the Frenchman.

He had been walking for a few minutes before a white rabbit dodged in front of him from a tuft of grass. It was a rather small white rabbit with brown ears. The animal gave him, what could only be described as a wary and analyzing look, before it turned and hopped off in the other direction, back from where it had come. The Englishman watched the furry creature as it weaved through the tall grasses and made it's way up a small hill a little ways off.

Arthur noticed quite a few butterflies were lazily fluttering around on top of the soft rise. Now most people would have written that off as just interesting or odd. However England well versed in magic and was quite familiar with mystical creatures, such as fairies. So this sight had piqued his interest, instantly.

"The New World must have magic as well…" England thought aloud as he turned and started walking towards the hill. And indeed it did have magic, he could feel it everywhere, though it was a different kind of power. Fitting for a different kind of land.

The grass was shorter at the top of the hill, easier to walk through. England's eyes widened when he spotted a small form laying amongst some yellow flowers. The butterflies were floating lazily above a small child of possibly the age of four.

It was the child from his dreams. It just had to be. The mess of wheat blonde hair and delicate skin added to his assumption. The Englishman quietly walked up to the sleeping child. He then shadowed his small face as he looked down at the boy.

This was just like his dreams, though now they were in reversed roles.

The young boy slowly opened his gorgeous azure eyes and stared up at England. The man didn't know what to say as he felt his cheeks heat up. This child was even more adorable then he had dreamed he would be. He was the most precious thing he had ever seen.

"It's so good to finally meet you." England finally said with a smile. He already knew this was the personification of the New World, there was simply no mistake. And he knew, one day he would find him, though this moment just seemed so perfect. So ethereal.

The boy blinked his beautiful blue eyes then sat up and turned to the newcomer. He then smiled back brightly at England and tilted his head just like a puppy might.

England blushed again, this child seemed to be radiating cuteness. He then blinked when the boy said something in another language. It was such a pleasant sound, though he couldn't make out what the child had said. _'It must be a native tongue.' _He concluded. _'But, it sounded like he was welcoming me.' _

Without thinking his next action through, England had bent down and scooped the small child up, then held him out in front of him. The boy was taken by surprise, but made no attempt to struggle. He simply looked down at England with slight confusion.

"I'm going to make you great." England declared with a confident smile as he stared at the innocent child. The boy gave him a questioning look but then smiled back after saying something in his native tongue.

"First, I suppose I should teach you how to speak a proper language." The Englishman said as he studied the small boy. "Right after I get you cleaned up and into some real clothes…" The personification of the New World, was bare chested and had on some tan leather pants with a pair of matching soft leather shoes. A small purple hand print was placed over his heart along with a few painted blue bands around his under arms.

A shadow appeared overhead, making the young child tilt his head and look to the sky just as a large bird flew past them. The bird turned his white head and stared down at the boy as he turned around and made another flyby. With a bright smile the child called out to the enormous bird and reached his hands out to it, as if in a greeting. The bird screeched out strongly as it made another turn and then ascended higher into the sky.

England frowned up at the bird. He knew it was this child's guardian, and that it was trying to warn him. But he wouldn't let such a thing get in his way. Larger guardian's had tried. He also knew, that hurting the bird would have disastrous outcomes to his new personification's spirits. So the proper action would be to try and ignore it.

"Come now, I want to introduce you to someone." England said, and with that, set the child back onto his feet and held out his hand to him, with a kind expression. The boy frowned and look back up to the sky for a moment, then directed his azure eyes back to the Englishman and smiled. He carefully reached out and gently took the man's hand in his. He figured that was what he was expecting of him. His assumptions must have been correct, for the tall newcomer smiled in acceptance and closed his fingers around his small hand.

England slowly led the child back to where he had left France, at the edge of the forest.

"Who iz zis?" France asked as he stared down at the small native child who was now holding England's hand. He didn't really need an answer. He could tell that this young boy was a personification. He glared as the Englishman cleared his throat and introduced his new friend.

"This, my dear France, is the personification of the New World or North America as they are calling it now. Looks like you missed out again, frog!" England declared as he flaunted his obvious victory at the Frenchman.

France frowned. "You used your creepy magic to locate 'im didn't you, Angleterre? Zat iz an unfair advantage."

"What's fair?" England scoffed. "You were to busy drawing your little maps to even take the time to look, _yourself_."

France sighed, then directed his attention to the small boy. "Bonjour." He greeted, civilly. The boy stared at the taller man and his eyes were drawn to his long wavy blonde hair. France smirked as the young boy smiled brightly and said something in his own language. "Looks like you 'ave zome work to do, Angleterre, and I can tell already 'e iz going to be a 'andfull."

"Mind your own business!." England snapped. "He'll be a perfect gentleman before you know it."

The boy looked back and forth between the two strange men as they verbally quarreled. He didn't know what they were talking about, but it looked amusing. However, he felt as if he had to get back to where he had been. New acquaintances aside, it was about time he returned, before he was missed. With that thought in mind, he released his grip on his new friend's hand and attempted to leave. A frown tugged at his lips when he found that the newcomer had tightened his hold around his hand. The boy looked up to him, confused.

England looked down at the boy and frowned slightly. "And, where do you think you're off to in such a hurry?" He asked, though he knew the boy couldn't understand him yet.

France smirked again. "Zat one iz going to be trouble." He said again as he bent down and picked up his bag. He then slung it over his shoulders and walked past them into the grassy plains. "I'm going further north, to see what I can find, au revoir, Angleterre!" He waved, unenthusiastically.

"Don't you dare go and establish any French colonies, frog! This is my land now!" England warned with annoyance as he watched the Frenchman walk off in the direction he had found the small child.

The boy looked on as well, with a new found worry. He bit down on his bottom lip, nervously. He wasn't liking this situation anymore, there was something wrong here. He tried again to pull away from the man's hand. He had to return to where he had been before, quickly. Still, the man didn't release him. The child turned his wide blue eyes up to the blonde haired man, as he began developing a certain distrust of him now.

England watched as the child's eyes became anxious. "Now don't you worry." He started as he tried to sooth the child's nerves. The boy replied back to him in his own language and frowned. He then tried to pull away yet again, but this time, it seemed as if he was actually putting his strength into it. And my, this young child was strong. Very strong, England found, as he was literally pulled against his will a few feet, before he put a stop to it by anchoring himself to the ground with his magic.

The child looked back at him in surprise. He then started to panic as he turned back towards the grassy plain and started yelling something as loud as he could. England was dumbfounded, he hadn't expected this reaction. He then narrowed his eyes at the struggling youth. "That's enough of that." He said calmly as he reached out with his free hand.

The word "Matho!" was the last thing the small child screamed before he fell to the ground with a light thud.

England frowned as he shook his hand casually, till the soft blue glow disappeared. "Sorry, lad. I can't just let you go. You're far too important to me…" He said in an _almost_ apologetic manner. The Englishman then knelt down and scooped the youth into his arms. "I wonder what got into him?" He muttered as he made his way back into the woods that they had entered from. "Maybe he was worried about his bird…"

He looked back down at the now unconscious boy and smiled softly. "You won't be _that_ much trouble, will you?" He chuckled as he resituated the small child against his shoulder. "Of course you won't be that much trouble. After all, we were destined to meet, you and I."

"Don't you worry, my America. One day, you will learn to love me."

**~(TS)~**

A few years had gone by and England had built a nice house in the thriving colony of Virginia. The first few months granted, had been tough as expected, but once young America had learned he wasn't allowed to venture out into the wild anymore, he had begun to adapt to colonial life.

He now had the appearance of a 7 year old boy. It was difficult, but England had finally turned him into a half way decent example of a proper young lad. He could speak fluent English now, and England was teaching him to read and write, along with arithmetic. He left out geography for the most part. It was rather unnecessary for him at the moment.

One of the things that was currently bothering England at the moment, was the fact that he now knew he only got _half_ the deal. France had found the northern personification of North America, and had ended up starting some colonies of his own in a place called "Canada." He had found out years too late, why America had acted so desperately the day he had claimed him.

France had sent him a letter a few years ago, claiming that his personification was the spitting image of America. That simply wasn't possible of course. In England's heart of hearts, he refused to accept that anyone or anything could even come close to compare to his America's beauty. He in turn wrote back, saying that he was unimpressed and all he really had acquired was a frozen wasteland.

America sat on the wooden fence outside the large home he now lived in and swung his legs back and forth out of bordom as he stared off to where the high mountains would be if he could see far enough. He would never say it, but every time England would leave on one of his ships to go back "home", wherever that was, he would always try and leave the town to head north. But for some odd reason, every time he reached the edge of the forest, he was filled with an overwhelming anxiety and would have to return to the house. He told England one time and one time only. After a harsh scolding for attempting to leave the town, the Englishman had given him a kind smile and told him, that it was probably because he knew he would miss him too much if he left. America accepted that answer and didn't bring it up again. After all, he _did love_ England, …didn't he?

England had finally returned to North America, after nearly a year of absence and he couldn't wait to see his America. To his delight, when the horse drawn carriage rounded the next corner and the familiar house he had built came into sight, he instantly spotted his young colony idling on the wooden fence near the road. He hadn't appeared to have aged much, but that was understandable since he _was_ after all, not an ordinary human.

America's head popped up when he heard the sound of a carriage, and a bright smile lit up his face when he realized who it was.

When the carriage finally came to a stop in front of the house and England stepped out, he was immediately tackled with a hug by the small energetic child.

"Whoa, easy there, remember your strength." England reminded as he patted the boy on the head.

America turned his head up and beamed at the Englishman. "I missed you so much! Why were you gone for so long!? It's been almost eleven months!"

England failed to hide a blush as he gave the boy's head another pat. "I'm truly sorry, America." He started as he gave his colony a sympathetic smile. "I had important business to attend to."

A pout came over the child's face. "That sounds boring! You should just stay here. We could play together, or you could read some of your books, or teach me how to cook, or tell me some more of your stories…"

England smiled softly as the boy rambled on, still refusing to release him. _'Poor America.' _He thought guiltily. _'He must be so lonely here all by himself, sure I left him some nannies to take care of his needs, and I always bring him back toys from the homeland, but I know that's not enough.' _He sighed quietly. _'It simply can't be helped, I can't neglect my duties as an Empire after all.'_

After they had finally made it inside the house, England set his heavy bags by the front door and took off his coat. A kind looking woman greeted him, then took his bags up to his room, after she courtsied.

"I see you haven't scared _that one_ off yet." England mused aloud.

"Who? Grace? No way, she's the best! She's been teaching me how to bake breads and cookies and cakes. It's a lot of fun." America replied with a wide grin.

"Has she now." England acknowledged with a light frown.

**-(SC)-**

"Look here, America. I brought you gift." England said, getting his colony's attention.

America rushed over with excitement. England chuckled at the expected reaction. He then held out a delicately crafted checkered painted box to the young boy. America accepted it carefully and sat down on the ground to inspect it, eyes filled with wonder. "What is it, England?" He asked. The boy was being extra careful this time so he didn't accidentally break anything again.

"Here." England started as he knelt down in front of him and reached over to the box. "You open it like this." With that he lifted the lid off the box, revealing a set of a dozen wooden toy soldiers.

America eyes widened with awe as he pulled two of them out, one in each hand, and studied them with fascination. "Whoa! Cool, you made all their faces different!"

England chuckled again and reached over to ruffle the young boy's hair. "I painted each individual figure separately." He informed, then pulled back to watch the young boy. "Now be careful with those, I nearly broke my hand while I was piecing them together."

America nodded in understanding and beamed up at him. "Thank you, England! You're the best!" The Englishman blushed at that and smiled back in return.

A few days had past and England just narrowly missed tripping over a small familiar looking rabbit for the fourth time since he had returned. He glared at the white rabbit as it hopped off down the hall after his colony. The small creature turned back to look at him, then flicked one of it's brown ears in dismissal and rounded a corner. "How the bloody hell did that thing find it's way all the way back to little America?" Not only did England forbid animals in the house, but he felt that this particular animal was in fact, out to get him. The way it kept looking at him. And the way it kept popping out at the exact time he was about to descend a stairwell, or the steps on the front porch. Perhaps it was ridiculous to accuse such a small creature of a deliberate act of treachery, but he couldn't shake the feeling that, that rabbit had a certain amount of contempt for him.

After supper, England had decided to read to little America, a book that he had acquired awhile ago from one of his most favorite talents. Romeo and Juliet. He had decided that his young colony was in need of some cultural enrichment, and what better way then to introduce him to some Shakespearian works of art.

Unfortunately, the young child had fallen asleep within the first few pages and was now curled up on the couch with his head in England's lap. The poor boy had gotten an upset stomach right after their meal, so England could forgive him for not paying much attention as he read aloud to him.

England smiled softly down at the small child as he brushed a hand through his wheat blonde hair. He felt so lucky to have, had found him first. Not only lucky, but he felt a strange feeling of entitlement to him. After all, wasn't it he, that had the prophetic dreams of him, beforehand. They were meant to be together. Forever.

_'America's not going to like it, but I am going to have to depart again in another week. He is going to be sad. But I simply must check on my other colonies in this land, and I want him to stay here, safe and sound. I only wish there was a way for me to keep an eye on him while I'm away…'_ He thought on that for quite awhile until a smile formed on his lips and his emerald eyes spotted a wayward toy soldier that little America had been playing with earlier._ 'That's a brilliant idea.'_

America watched sadly as England's carriage was pulled away by the horses, back toward the docks. "He didn't even stay a month this time…" The boy was surprised when he felt something warm trickle down his cheek. With haste, he roughly wiped the tears away and waved with forced happiness as the carriage carried off his supposed father figure. "Maybe he'll stay longer next time." America said softly as he picked up his fluffy companion. "I wonder when he'll come back…"

**~(TS)~**

England laid comfortably in his bed. He was now in his colony of New York, miles away from where he had left his America. "I suppose it's as good a time as any to see if my little spell worked." He muttered to himself as he concentrated, trying to connect the link between himself and the toy. To his satisfaction, it actually did work. He closed his eyes and could clearly see inside the house he had left his young colony a few weeks ago. It was nighttime now. Time for the child to be sleeping soundly in his bed. With a small amount of effort, England easily manipulated the toy soldier into action.

He was confused when he found an empty bed, and a bit annoyed. Not only did it take a bit of trouble to get up the stairs, but America was up past his curfew. What were those nannies doing? He didn't hire them to slack off.

England's attention was drawn to the hallway where he heard soft whispering. He peeked the toy soldier around the doorframe and spied on who it was that was speaking. It was America. But who was he talking to? Against his better judgment, England willed the soldier out and into the hall for a better look. To his surprise and befuddlement, the young child was kneeling down and whispering to his rabbit. Something about trying again in a new direction. The wooden foot of the toy soldier accidentally tapped too loudly on the hardwood floor. America, startled, whipped his head around to see what it could be.

England just barely had time to snap the connection between himself and the toy. Though it might have been less traumatic if he had simply stayed still. But he panicked. The wooden soldier went limp and fell back to the floor with a clatter, making America jump up in shock.

"W-was that a ghost?!" He squeaked in fear as he approached the toy warily and picked it up after a moments hesitation. The rabbit simply stared at the wooden object with suspicion.

England tried again the next night, this time connecting his mind with more of the toy soldiers in case one was spotted. He arrived just in time to witness his little America sneaking out of the house late in the night. He was following his white rabbit in the direction of the northern forest.

The Englishman frowned miles away as he continued to concentrate, though he was now highly disappointed. His colony was deliberately disobeying a rule he had set in place for him. Two actually. Stay inside at night. And stay out of the forest at all times. He scowled to himself as he willed the toy soldiers to follow them.

"You're doing much better tonight." The rabbit said, his white fur was illuminated by the full moon, so it appeared to be almost glowing.

England raised his enormous eyebrows in surprise. "It can talk?" He whispered to himself as he lay in his bed. "That rabbit must be another Guardian to America… I must admit, I never expected that… I thought that the eagle was the only one. And I've been repelling it from the area for years." He frowned as he watched America take another shaky step forward, deeper into the forest.

"I can't!" America finally exclaimed as he took a step back. The anxiety already building to an unbearable state.

"Yes you can!" The white rabbit encouraged as he bit onto the young boy's pant leg and tugged lightly for him to continue. America bit his bottom lip and took another step. "See? It's only trickery. There is nothing to fear."

America kept his slow pace for another 30 feet and then fell to his knee's in defeat. "I'll never be free of this place…" He cried as he hung his head miserably.

"That's not true." The rabbit reassured as he hopped over to him and put a paw on his knee. "You made it much farther tonight then you ever have. Just look." The rabbit pointed his paw to a large tree. "You past the old oak tree finally."

America looked over to the tree and smiled faintly. "You're right I did." He laughed lightly.

"We can try again tomorrow." The rabbit suggested, to which the boy nodded in agreement.

"Alfred? Alfred! Where have you run off to now, boy? It's too late for games. Alfred!"

America's head popped up and his eyes widened. "Oh no, Alice woke up!" He quickly scrambled to his feet and rushed off. "I'm going to be in so much trouble!"

The rabbit sighed softly and then proceeded slowly after the young boy. A small crack of a twig and the rustle of leaves, drew it's attention. Tiny glowing orbs peaked out from behind the nearby trees and bushes. A chill ran down the furry creatures spine as an aura of malice enveloped the area.

"You." Came a familiar accusing voice. The rabbit's fur puffed slightly as it witnessed one of the toy soldiers from the house walk out from behind a tree. It's movements were stiff and jerky as it approached. "You're the one tempting my America to desertion!" The soldier snapped as it point it's wooden arm out at the rabbit. The furry creature took a step back warily.

"He's not yours. You had no right to take him. You have no right to trap him. He should be free." The rabbit said boldly.

"You vile treacherous animal. I knew you were trouble from the first time I laid eyes on you." The soldier seethed as he kept approaching the small rabbit.

"I would have to say the same about you." The rabbit replied bitterly as it took a few more steps backwards. A shiver ran down it's back, when he backed into something hard. A feeling of dread filled the white rabbit when it stared into the glowing red orbs of a second toy soldier, directly behind.

"You're a nuisance." The wooden toy behind the rabbit growled.

"You won't be missed for very long." The one in front said.

"After all, he only needs one guardian…" Another toy soldier said as it approached with a few others.

The white rabbit quickly turned in a full circle as it franticly looked for an escape route. There was none, it was completely surrounded by the menacing toys. The small rabbit drew into itself in fear as it laid it's brown ears back, flat against it's head.

**~(TS)~**

The next morning America couldn't find his precious rabbit anywhere. He even called out to him, though he had never really needed to before. But the small animal was nowhere to be found. He had searched all day to no avail.

It was in the late afternoon, while he was sitting on the steps of the front porch, when he first spotted the black birds overhead. They were circling the northern forest where he had been just last night. A sharp pain stabbed him in the heart as he raced off into the woods, ignoring for once, the building anxiety. America ran past the old oak tree and desperately searched the area. All he found was a tuft of white fur and nothing else. The young boy fell to his knees as tears fell from his eyes. He clutched the tuft of fur to chest as he bit down hard of his lower lip in despair. He only stopped when he tasted metal.

"Doksa ake waunkte…" He whispered as he opened his hand and let a gust of wind take it away, further into the forest and up into the treetops. America stood up slowly with a solemn expression and let his eyes wander the area, though he was no longer searching for his friend. Something blue caught his attention, amongst the fallen autumn leaves. He walked over and brushed some of the orange colored leaves away to discover one of the toy soldiers England had made for him. It looked as if it had been violently chewed on and one of it's legs was missing. America's azure eyes widened in horror when he noticed the thick sticky red substance that was covering part of the wooden toy. He instantly dropped it back to the ground, repulsed as he tried to wipe his hands clean on his white shirt.

He left the toy soldier to rot in the forest as he fled back to the large house. He searched madly for the rest of the wooden men, but only found the three he had never taken out of the box. Eight were still missing. Without a care, America quickly burned them. He felt as if a part of himself was gone. As if he were somehow less innocent now. He didn't know how, but he knew there was something wrong with the toy soldiers, something very wrong. It left him with a sickening feeling in his stomach.

**~(TS)~**

England didn't return for years, though he still watched over his colony as he grew and became stronger. Without his rabbit, America hadn't attempted to escape since that night. He interacted more with the town's people and became more knowledgeable about the world. England would have rather not had him learn about how vast his empire was or how many wars he had fought in. But in the end he supposed it was inevitable.

England had finally managed to drive France out of North America, and had finally acquired the personification of Canada. He really was the spitting image of America. Twins. Though to England, there was still nothing more beautiful then his America. He had decided to bring the boy back with him to his colony of Virginia, so he could reunite him with his brother. Maybe with another person around, America wouldn't be so lonely. Plus, putting them together meant he only had to go to one place to check up on them.

"America, I'm back. And I've brought you someone." England called out as he entered the familiar household. He was met with a less then enthusiastic response as the personification of America walked into the living room from the large kitchen. How many years has it been? He had honestly lost count. However he had watched his young colony grow over time so he wasn't really surprised that America now looked to be around 10 years of age, just like his brother.

"Welcome home, England…" He greeted almost shyly, like he was greeting a stranger. England frowned. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting. Where was the energy he was used to? Where was the warmth?

"Well say hello, Canada." England instructed as he pushed the young colony in front of him. The boy had been hiding behind his back. He was such a shy child, not to mention he was still quite upset. It seemed he was quite attached to the frog.

Canada slowly lifted his head and looked over to the other young child. Azure eyes locked with violet eyes. A blush blossomed on Canada's cheeks as he recognized the other immediately. Whereas, America finally showed the first sign of excitement, as a wide toothy smile spread across his face. "Matho!" He cried as he rushed over and tackled the shy boy to the ground in his over excitement.

"It's …Canada now." The northern colony breathed as he tried to take air back into his lunges. The boy had a thick French accent.

America quickly sat back up and stared down at his brother, happily. "Well, I'm America now!" Canada gave his twin a soft smile and he nodded in understanding.

A moment later America was back on his feet and holding a hand out to Canada, to which the other accepted without a word. They gave each other a secret look and then walked away from England.

The Englishman tilted his head in slight amusement and slight hurt. _'That was a rather quick reunion… America didn't even give me a hug. …How odd.' _He shrugged and handed his luggage off to the aging nanny.

It took almost no time at all for the twins to become the best of friends all over again. They did everything together, though England forbade them from washing together or sleeping in the same bed. He set up Canada's bedroom a few doors down the hall from America's.

The Canadian colony was a much more dedicated studier then his brother and caught onto things easily. Perhaps America just didn't want to stay inside. There was always something more entertaining just outside the window. But England couldn't complain. At least America's spirits had finally lifted. Now the only time he was upset was when England scolded Canada for speaking French. Sometimes it just happened, like a verbal tick. But it was strictly forbidden. One time he accidentally made Canada cry, because he was too harsh. America had refused to speak to him for the rest of the day. It was as if _he_ were the one who had actually gotten scolded. It was because of this kind of behavior, that a tiny seed of resentment started growing in the pit of England's stomach towards his shy Canadian colony.

On one particular sunny day, the Englishman had taken the boys out for a picnic, out in the field just before the southern forest. The spring flowers were in full bloom now. England found himself sitting alone with the tea set as he watched the twins play in the flowers. They had picked them in large amounts and were now sitting on an old fallen tree as they quietly arranged the stems into crowns. He had no doubt, France was the one responsible for teaching such a girly thing to Canada, and now he was, in turn, spreading the silly art to his brother. There was no point really in getting after them for it, they were children after all. Even if they were boys. Though Canada usually appeared quite a bit more feminine then his southern twin.

"Maybe I should arrange for Canada to have a proper haircut… he is starting to look like France, of all countries..." England muttered to himself as he took a sip of tea. In the end, however, he had decided to leave his hair as it was. It did after all make him easier to distinguish from his brother.

England frowned as Canada finally finished with his flower crown and reached over to set it upon America's head. The southern twin blushed as he reached up to gently touch the woven stems. A few minutes later he handed Canada his own try at a flower crown. The northern twin laughed quietly at the failed attempt, but accepted it gratefully. He then spent the next 10 minutes trying to fix it, while America swung his legs back and forth lazily while he tilted his head upwards to watch a small white butterfly float around above them. Canada, finally deeming the flower crown acceptable, reached over and set that one as well atop America's head, bringing his attention back to his brother again. America smiled brightly at Canada and took his twin's hand in his and held them up between them as he laced their fingers together. Canada blushed brightly at this and gave America a shy smile in return.

England narrowed his emerald eyes. That was odd behavior, even for twins. He knew they were still just children but it was far too loving. Though, it might just be because they only had each other to play with. America was so lonely before, after all. Still…

"Maybe I should have never brought Canada here…" England grumbled to himself quietly, his tea had long since gotten cold. Whether he knew it or not, his growing dislike for the shy northern personification had more to do with his own jealousy then actual morals. Ever since they had arrived, nearly seven months ago, it had become quite clear that England was no longer the apple of America's eye. Whether he ever really had been or not, was still left to be decided.

**~(TS)~**

A week later, England had been drawn back out to sea, as he had duties to attend to and Spanish ships to sink. His departure was met with only minimal upset. Perhaps America was just growing up and he had developed an understanding and acceptance that England simply couldn't stay very long. Or perhaps, he simply didn't care as much. He did after all have Canada now. England, however still felt the sting of disappointment. He still remembered so long ago, when America had clung to his leg childishly and had begged him not to go, because he would be lonely. The Englishman had ultimately decided to hide his feelings of disappointment and instead focused his new frustrations on Spain. He was aware of a few settlements down south that were in desperate need of razing.

**~(TS)~**

England had finally returned to his two North American personifications nearly 22 years later. He had, over the years checked up on them through his connection with the remaining toy soldiers. Each time he had, however, he was met with a new disappointment. It hadn't taken very long after he had left, years ago, for Canada to find his way into America's bed, even though he had explicitly told the new nannies, that they were strictly forbidden to do so. The twins even bathed together on occasion, which was even worse. It was indecent and disrespectful. And of course it was all Canada's fault. He was just like France. He _was_ his colony first after all. England truly regretted bringing the northern personification to _his_ America. It had brought nothing but trouble. He would have rather had America stay lonely and obedient then happy and rebellious.

To his horror, when he arrived back in Virginia. He had found that the surrounding forests had all been cut down and new buildings sprawled out all around the old country house. The town had in fact turned into a thriving city. He dropped his bags at the front door and interrogated the first nanny he could find. It happened to be old Grace's granddaughter. "Gloria, where are the boys?" He asked urgently. He had this horrible sickening feeling that they might have left the city, now that the enchanted forest was gone.

The young girl smiled and greeted him pleasantly. "Alfred and Matthew? I believe they both went into the city a little while ago, they should be back pretty soon."

England sighed in relief. "I see, that's good. So, tell me, what have they been occupying themselves with, since I left?"

The young woman tilted her head and smiled softly at him. "Oh my, Alfred has become quite the local Hero over the years. He's quite the role model for the children."

England lifted his eyebrows a bit with interest. "Really. And what of Matthew?"

"He is doing just fine, those boys do everything together, it's quite endearing. Matthew has actually become quite the cook and, dare I say, he does have his share of admirers." She laughed lightly as she patted away a spot of flour on her apron.

England waited patiently in a new western style armchair. Whatever happened to his old one, he had brought with him from his homeland, he wasn't sure. A few hours later and the front door swung open hazardously, and loud laughter spilled into the house.

"That was awesome! Did you see their faces?!" A deeper voice then he recognized exclaimed, energetically.

"You shouldn't of done that Alfie, you could have hurt yourself…" A softer voice, almost identical to the first, chastised back in response.

"What? You worry too much Mattie, besides, something like that can't hurt this Hero!" The first voice declared, unfazed.

"Still..-"

Two teenaged boys around the age of 17, rounded the corner and came into view. The sentence that had been started was never finished as the twins stared at their new guest.

"Sup, British dude!" America greeted happily as he beamed at England. Canada on the other hand said nothing, as he stood behind his brother, shyly.

England didn't know what to say as he stood up from the armchair and walked cautiously over to them. They had both clearly outgrown him.

America looked down at him brightly with his beautiful azure eyes. "Did you shrink?"

Canada poked his brother in the back. "No he didn't shrink, don't be so rude, Alfie…" He scolded very quietly.

England's instant irritation was washed away as he stared up at America. His colony had grown into such a handsome young man. Dare he say, he was stunning. England swallowed thickly before he responded. "I-it's so nice to see you again, America. How have you been?"

"Mattie and I have been doing just fine." America answered truthfully as he took his brother's hand and pulled him after him as he walked past England. He stopped and gave England a side glance. "It's nice you finally came to visit us, we thought you might have forgotten we were here after all these years." With that they left the room, leaving the Englishman to frown after them.

To say supper was awkward would be an understatement. England had wanted to cook something for the boys, but it seemed Canada already had something prepared from earlier and to reject his food would be rather rude for an English gentleman such as himself.

England sat in his usual seat at the head of the table, but the two chairs beside him where the twins had sat so long ago, were empty. Instead, they were seated next to each other at the far end of the table, having a secret conversation. England glared at the Canadian personification. He could almost smell the French on him. He might not look like France, not entirely, no, he looked more like America. And he might not have that thick French accent he used to have, he sounded more like America. But there was just something about him, something he didn't like. Maybe it was the way he acted so innocent and so caring. Perhaps it was the way he fussed over America. But in the end, it must have been the way that America himself reacted. He looked at Canada with so much more love then he had ever shown to him. Didn't England deserve more love? After all they had been through together, wasn't _he_ entitled to more love then _Canada_?

**~(TS)~**

Over the next few months, England had noticed that the colonists were on edge over the taxes that he had placed on them. How ungrateful they were. Hadn't he given them everything? Where was their gratitude? What was with America and it's entirety that made it so rebellious? The personification of America, for the most part, had yet to show any signs of discontent, at least around him. Though he was usually out with his brother during the day. They were usually doing odd jobs around the city and helping out in anyway they could. England supposed it was a way to pass the time.

During one particularly boring day, England was alone at the house again, waiting for the twins to come home, when he decided on a way to pass the time. He hadn't connected with them in a few years and he wondered if it would still work. After locking himself in his bedroom, England laid down on his bed and concentrated. It didn't come quite as easily as before, probably because they were now so weathered but he finally connected himself with the remaining toy soldiers that he had hidden away under the house.

England decided that if he wasn't invited to come along with them, then he would just follow them around for a day to see what they do. It was rather boring at first. Canada started the day off, helping out at the local school, whereas America ran a few deliveries for the clinic. After that, they both helped out at the popular bakery in the city, carrying sacks of flour, and kneading dough for the elderly baker. Then they arrived at a construction site on the outskirts of town where they were building a stable. Canada started fussing again when America climbed onto the unfinished roof and started lugging heavy boards to outline the structure, all while walking back and forth on the long support beam at the very top. That had even made England nervous. America seriously didn't think things through sometimes. A little after noon they finally stopped at a farm a little outside the city, where America chopped some firewood for an elderly woman, while Canada sat down at the wooden table outside and simply chatted with the woman over a cup of tea.

"Well… that was eventful." England muttered as he followed the twins back towards the house.

However, they past right by the house and instead kept walking. A little ways behind the house they arrived at a secluded area hidden by a small thicket of hardwoods and flowering shrubs. England hadn't remembered seeing this the last time he had visited. Perhaps they had planted the area themselves. On a large oak, a rope swing was hung from a sturdy limb. Canada went straight for the swing, while America occupied himself by wandering around the immediate area, picking something off the ground.

After awhile he finally had gathered enough and hoisted himself into the old oak. Sitting on the thick limb right over Canada, he started casually dropping whatever he had picked up. Instead of falling like acorns, they spun and fluttered down to the ground like delicate pieces of paper.

One finally landed in Canada's hair. He reached up and took it out calmly then tilted his head and smiled up at his brother. "Why do you always do that?" He asked as he continued to stare up at the other.

America looked down and smirked. "Cause, they're like little flying machines, it's so fun to watch… One day Mattie, I'm going to create something that can fly in the sky." He stated with conviction.

"Sure you are." Canada laughed. America took no offence at his twin's sarcasm and instead let fall another twirling object. Canada caught it in both of his hands and stared at it thoughtfully. "We should plant these…"

The Canadian was nearly startled right off of the swing when America jumped down and landed a few feet in front of him. "You fall just like a Sweetgum seed." Canada whined, he was still clearly rattled.

"A gumball?" America asked as he stood back up and turned to look at his twin. "We should plant some of those too!" He beamed.

"No way, I don't want to step on anymore of those things." Canada frowned as he rejected the idea outright. America mimicked his brother's expression, then pouted.

England blushed brightly from where he was in the house. He hadn't known that a man, who was clearly close to adulthood could still look so adorable when he pouted. His America had undeniably turned into someone worth coveting.

"Come on Alfie, get off, you're getting too heavy for this." Canada whined as he tried to push his damp brother away.

America had climbed onto Canada's lap backwards, his legs resting on either side of his brother. "But you _always_ get the swing, Mattie." He whined back in return as he grabbed hold of the ropes.

"We should just build another swing." Canada sighed as he relented and pushed his feet on the ground to move them.

"I like it this way." America argued with a sly smile.

"I _know_ you do." Canada teased as he reached up to cup his brother's cheek.

England watched with outrage as the Canadian personification leaned forward and pressed his lips to America's. He was even more upset when the American personification deepened the kiss with vigor. As things got heated, Canada ended up loosing his balance on the small swing and they both fell backwards into the grass.

"Maple…" He breathed from underneath his twin. America simply laughed. "Get off, Alfie, you're all sweaty…" Canada whined as he tried to push his brother away again. America smirked as he pushed himself into a sitting position on top of his brother. He then reached down and pulled his wet shirt off and tossed it away. Canada mimicked his twin's expression as he stared up at his half clothed brother with a light blush.

England severed his connection with the toy soldier just as America had leaned back down on top of his brother again. What a horrible truth he had just learned. Disgusting. Awful. But true. He needed to separate them. That much was obvious. And he needed to take control of his colonies again. Starting with some new laws. No longer will he allow so much disrespect to go unpunished.

**~(TS)~**

Not even two weeks later, England had sent for a ship to escort the Canadian personification back to his own country. His reasoning? Canada hadn't been home in awhile, and he needed to reconnect with his own people. It was true really, though the actual reasoning behind it was indeed fueled by an ulterior motive. England didn't want Canada anywhere near his America, he had already tainted him far too much. England couldn't stop kicking himself for what a huge mistake it had been to bring the Canadian here in the first place. He should have just left him in that frozen wasteland they were calling a country.

England's attempt to reestablish a bond with America was met with stony resistance. The teen was very upset about being separated from his brother. He had offered to accompany him when he went back North, saying that it was only right since, Canada had spent so long here. But England had denied him.

Canada, ever the patient twin, had soothed the American by telling him, it would only be for eight months. Then they could make plans for America to come back with him. That was a lie, though, England wouldn't bother dampening their spirits. It would be far easier to contain the American by holding him back with false hopes.

Months went by, one after the other. Soon the eighth month mark rolled by without any sign of Canada. To England's surprise, the American was becoming even more rebellious. Was it the new laws? Influence from the city folk? Maybe the taxes? He couldn't be sure, but the teen was becoming even more agitated as of late. Unrest in the community was clear. There was a growing resentment for the British Empire.

Around a year and six months, the tension was becoming unbearable. "Maybe he's just lonely." England mumbled as he watched America from the second story window. He was outside again, just sitting on the fence like he always used to when he was very young. "Perhaps he just needs some companionship. His brother doted on him far too much." The Englishman frowned. "I could do that… I could be there for him like that. Nobody understands him, not like _I_ do after all. He just needs to realize that."

A few days later, England and America were sitting in the living room, the late afternoon sunlight was streaming through the window, providing them with just enough light to let them continue doing what they wanted. England was sitting in what he claimed was a _very_ uncomfortable armchair, reading an old book he had found in the bookshelf. While America was sitting on the floor attempting to draw the Union Jack. _'I never knew America was such a bad artist. There are far too many red and white stripes. You'd think after all these years, he would know how to draw my flag. Perhaps he's just getting it confused with my East India Company flag, though I'm not quite sure where he might have seen that. I should bring down a real Union Jack later for him to use as an example.' _He thought to himself as he turned a page, though he must admit, the thought that America was actually attempting to do something patriotic for his safe made him feel happy. Perhaps he was finally coming around.

Two hours later it was dark out and America was in his bedroom getting ready for bed, when England came in. He wanted to give him his old flag, so that he might improve his art skills. "America I-" The teen turned around right after he had taken his shirt off for the night and raised an eyebrow at England. The Englishman couldn't help the blush that spread across his face as he stared at his colony's bare chest. He was gorgeous, and the dim candlelight accentuated his muscular build perfectly.

"Something you want?" America asked in his broken English.

"Well I-" England hesitated then held out the flag. "I saw that you were drawing something earlier and I thought I would give you this to help you."

America looked down at the folded Union Jack in England's hand and frowned slightly, but accepted it. "Gee thanks." He replied unenthusiastically.

England frowned at the reaction but decided to ignore it for now. "You have grown so strong, America." The Englishman said as he took a step forward. "You were not this muscular a year ago." He said as he reached out and gently put his hand on the American's chest. The teen didn't reply as he stared down at the smaller man. His actions were bold. This wasn't England's usual uncaring behavior.

"England?" The teen asked in confusion. The smaller man didn't reply, as he harshly pushed the American back. The teen stumbled back a step and plopped down onto his bed in surprise.

"I think you've even grown a few inches taller since your brother left." England said as he moved between the American's leg and leaned over him, as he put his hand back on the teen's chest. Another frown came over America's face as he carefully grabbed the smaller man's hand.

"England." He started seriously. "When is Matthew coming back. It's been far over eight months."

England glared slightly. "Let's not talk about him now…" He said as he pulled his hand away and cupped his colony's face. America looked up at the other in bewilderment.

"What are you-" England cut him off as he pushed his lips down onto his colony's. America's azure eyes widened in shock and he momentarily froze. A few seconds later England was roughly shoved away. "Get off!" America spat as he wiped his mouth in disgust.

England stumbled back in surprise. He then turned a venomous glare over to the teen as he grit his teeth in hurt and anger. "Don't you think I deserve better after all that we've been through?!" He hissed angrily. "I deserve _more_ wouldn't you say?!"

America lifted his eyebrows incredulously. He wasn't quite sure how answer that. _Deserve?_ Why does he think he deserves _anything_? Especially this? What was he thinking?

England scowled at the look on the teen's face. "Don't you want love? I don't understand you. How is it that you refuse me, but you're completely accepting of your own brother?! That's incest!"

America's cheeks blossomed with color. "Is that why you sent him away? Were you jealous?" He asked with contempt. "Just let me go see my brother!"

"Why do you care so much about that frozen bit of inhospitable land? What can he give you that _I_ can't?" England seethed as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

America's face soften as he stood up from the bed. "Everything." He replied as he patted England on the shoulder as he walked past him to the doorway. "Mattie _is_ my everything." He elaborated as he pulled open the door. He paused a moment then looked back to the Englishman, he hadn't turned around yet. America frowned slightly and sighed. "I'm going to go find my brother." He said as he turned around again. "Don't try to stop me."

"America." England said, effectively stopping his colony after he had taken just a single step out of the door. The teen stopped and turned around again out of courtesy. In the moment he did, the American felt as if his heart had caught fire from within his chest. The pain was so immense it had paralyzed him on the spot as a surge of electricity felt as if it was rushing through every vein in his body. England observed coolly as the American lost consciousness and collided with the hardwood floor. He took a step back and shook his right hand until the blue glow faded away. "If I can't have you, nobody can…" He said as he stared at the fallen teen before him. Something within his mind had finally snapped.

**~(TS)~**

England had dragged his colony down to the basement and secured him there as he searched his many tomes for an appropriate spell to remedy this problem. He finally found a solution in an old leather bound grimoire. "This will work… I just need to catch it first…" He knew this kind of magic was forbidden, especially on personifications. There was an unspoken law prohibiting it. But he didn't care. America was _his _after all.

America woke up some time later, he didn't know how much time however. It could have been days. What he did know however, was that his movement was now limited. He appeared to be shackled to a stone wall in the house basement. The teen of course had never wanted to come down here, because he was _sure_ it was haunted, but now he had other worries. He slowly lifted his head and spotted England across the room tinkering with some things on a stone table. "What did you do…?" America asked wearily.

England looked over at his colony and smiled. "Oh, I see you're awake. Good. Then I suppose we can get started." He said in an unusually cheerful way.

America shook his head slightly trying to get the buzzing out of his ears and looked back over again. "What are you talking about?" He asked as he pulled at the chains on the wall. "What _is_ this?!" He asked again, the onset of panic beginning.

"Oh come now. Don't look so shocked." England said casually as he turned to continue his preparations.

"England, this isn't right. Just let me go." America said with forced calm as he continued to pull at the chains. For some reason he couldn't break them. He couldn't understand why.

"What's right?" England replied with less cheer. "You obviously don't know."

America watched warily as the smaller man walked over to the side and came back dragging a large netted bird. The teen's eyes widened in recognition. "Don't worry my America." England said as he pulled the bird out of the net. It's wings were both broken and mangled. "One day, you will thank me, you'll see."

The teen watched in horror as his eagle was destroyed before his eyes. Nothing he said made a difference. Nor how loudly he screamed. A heavy weight set upon his soul as if his hopes had been ripped from him. His ambitions, and dreams. He felt mortally wounded.

"Now, this isn't exactly how I planned it, but it will still work out." England reassured as he filled a bowl with the eagle's blood and took it back over to the table. America hardly heard him, as he slumped against the wall, feeling cold inside.

A few minutes later, England finally finished what he was doing and walked over to the teenager.

"I …just have one question." America said as he lifted his head to give England a death glare. England quirked an eyebrow and waited without saying a word. "Did you kill Nanabozho?"

"Who?" England asked with a frown.

"The white rabbit… did you kill Nanabozho?" America asked again, already sensing the truth.

"Oh." England replied with realization. "He was trying to lead you astray, my dear Alfred."

"Don't you dare call me that, you have no right!" America raged. "Only Matthew can call me that!"

England rolled his eyes at the angry teen. He then brought out a knife and casually slid it over his own palm. America stared down at him with slight confusion, though he couldn't bring himself to care too much. The Englishman then poured the eagles blood over his bleeding hand. "Hold still." He directed as he raised his bloody hand and placed it to the American's bare chest, over his heart.

Before America even had time to react, that same burning feeling erupted inside his heart again. The pain was horrible and it wouldn't end. The teen frantically tried to reach out to stop England, to push him away, to break his chains. "Don't you fight back, my America. This will hurt less if you just submit." England warned as he watched his struggling colony.

Just a few seconds later, the American's azure eyes started dulling down to a new shade. A darker shade. England actually started to worry when he noticed the nosebleed that started right after. And then it was over. The light died down from his hand and he stepped back to check his work. "Perfect." England complimented himself when he checked the red magic seal set over America's chest. Now you won't be rebelling anymore. A smile tugged at the Englishman's lips, before a full on grin broke out. This was an obvious victory. Now the only thing left to do was to test it.

**~(TS)~**

It took a few months, but he had finally called Canada back to Virginia. This was a test that only he was aware of as he waited for the Canadian's arrival. Finally at around 2 in the afternoon, the wayward colony returned.

"I'm back." Canada called out softly as he usually did. "Alfie?" The Canadian's eyes lit up when he spotted his brother coming around the corner to the living room. The teen dropped his bags at the front door and rushed over to his twin. "I missed you, Alfie." He said after he had wrapped his arm's around the American.

There was an awkward pause then America finally replied. "Welcome back, Canada. I'm glad you made it here safely."

What was this? The American's voice sounded hollow, emotionless, and dead. And he had called him _Canada_. He _never_ called him that. Usually because he was scolded for getting it wrong and saying "Canadia" But he had gotten it right this time. … This was wrong.

Ever since a few months ago when he had been overwhelmed by an intense pain in his chest, Canada had been worrying. A horrible feeling of dread had been weighing him down and he didn't know why... But he knew, he just _knew_ something bad had happened.

Canada released his hold on his brother and took and step back to look at him with a frown. His eyes widened when he saw his twin. It was him, he was sure of it, but it also _wasn't_ him. Not anymore. The person he knew _so_ well and loved _so_ dearly, wasn't the one standing there before him. This person was empty.

America tilted his head slightly and stared at his brother with his steel blue eyes. "Is there something wrong?" He asked, absently.

Canada didn't know when they had started, but he couldn't stop his tears as he slid to the floor onto his knees. He hunched over grasping his chest in sorrow and agony. It hurt so bad, so unbearably bad. What had happened? And Why? What could have done this?! Or more importantly, who? _Who_ had done this to his beloved Alfred?

"Oh, I didn't hear you come in." England said as he rounded the same corner and also came into the living room. He lifted an eyebrow at the sobbing Canadian, then smirked. _'I guess it really did work, after all.'_ He mused with delight.

Canada finally pulled himself together enough to lift his head and spot England leaning against the wall watching, rather unmoved by the situation. It all connected now. Canada narrowed his eyes into a death glare at the Brit. "What have you done?" The teen whispered with forced calm.

England lifted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "I don't know what you mean."

"How dare you!" Canada snapped as he got back onto his feet and marched over to England. "This is a crime, England! And you know it!"

The Englishman shrugged, unthreatened. "What _you_ were doing with your _own_ brother was a crime. This? Well I suppose _this_ is justification."

Canada gaped at him. "No, what you did is monstrous! We were never doing anything wrong. You had no right to do this!"

England smirked again. "You North American's and your "rights." He laughed.

Without thinking, Canada, in his rage had pulled back in order to strike the smaller man. To his surprise his arm was caught mid-swing. He looked over his shoulder and found his brother standing right behind him, face expressionless. Canada bit his lower lip and dropped his hand in defeat as his tears started up again.

England had sent Canada back home that very day, finding he no longer needed him for anything. The Canadian left heartbroken and bitter. England wouldn't lie if asked if he took a certain amount of pleasure in seeing that. It was yet another victory.

**~(TS)~**

As the years past, England stayed in power, thanks to America. He now ruled over half of the other countries. And claimed a part of all of the continents. Canada stayed under his rule, due to the fact that England taxed his people relentlessly and limited his trade. Russia and China were the only hope to the rest of the world as they tried to stop the growth of the British Empire from spreading as much as they could. None of the European countries existed anymore save for Switzerland and the tiny nation of Lichtenstein. They had remained neutral so England had decided to humor them. After all, he didn't really need anything from them, and they posed no real threat. Germany had rebelled and had tried to rally forces to overtake the empire. However with the invention of the Atomic Bomb, his lands were laid to waste, along with most of his people. The horrible side effects from the bomb affected the surrounded countries for years after.

For his brave efforts, Germany had set a higher standard for people to look up to.

Finally, it seemed the tides had turned on England and his Empire. While most of the Asian countries were gaining power and combining their forces, some of England's countries were abandoning him for their cause, including Australia, New Zealand, and Mexico.

America, seeing the threat quickly approaching England, had taken it upon himself to bare all the blame himself. He would turn the eyes of the world to him instead and protect England with all he had. Most of the world already saw him as the villain anyway, seeing as the role he played as England's _attack dog_ was unquestionably ruthless.

After threatening all of the offending countries at the last World Conference meeting he was confronted by Canada. The country almost never spoke anymore, and never to America, but now he had something to say. He could see where this was going. And it was going to end badly.

"A-America…wait up." Canada called out, stopping his brother. "I know what you're doing… it's a bad idea…" He mumbled as he avoided eye contact.

"It doesn't matter, I have to protect England. That is all." America replied calmly.

"Y-you don't have to… He brought this on himself. Just let him go…" The timid country protested quietly.

"Canada." America started, bringing his brother's eyes to look at him. "I _have_ to. There is no other option for me." He said seriously. He could still hear England's commands echoing inside his head. "Don't fail me now, _my_ America."

As he turned to leave, Canada pulled on his sleeve, making him stop. The Canadian personification gently turned his twin back to him. "Aklark." He said quietly as he pressed his hand over his brother's heart. "Please, don't go." For only a split second, Canada could have sworn he saw America's eyes flicker to azure when he had spoken his childhood nickname. But then it was gone. America frowned and pulled his arm away carefully and proceeded down the hall leaving his brother alone as the feeling of dread filled him.

**~(TS)~**

Canada was the only one there to watch his brother fall. He was the only one who had bothered to search for him in the rumble that was once, _almost_ a great country. And he was the only one to watch the light fade from his eyes.

England had finally come to see what was left of his America, once the dust had settled. He found the broken country laying on the ground, his head in his brother's lap. "What a waste." He grumbled as he watched the scene in front of him. The Canadian ignored him, he was used to his tactless comments by now.

"Are you satisfied yet?" Canada asked as he wiped the tears from his eyes, roughly. "He was my everything, and you brought him to ruin. It should have been _you_ that they destroyed! Not Alfie!"

England ignored the useless country as he leaned against a broken wall, thinking of what he could do, now that his empire had pretty much fallen. "I am never satisfied." He finally replied as he looked over to his two countries, though really only one was left. _'Perhaps I should attempt to restart, though it will be tough with no one to rely on… America was so useful. Right up to the end. What a pity…'_ England's emerald eyes wandered over them, thoughtfully. He then spotted a white furry animal behind Canada. _'Ah, that's Canada's guardian animal, he almost never brings him out of his country. I suppose this was an acception.'_ A thought popped into England's head as something occurred to him.

"I say, Canada, you really do look _so_ much like your brother." England grinned as he began to formulate his new sinister plan.

**xXx - oOo - oOo - xXx - _xXx_ - xXx - xXx - _xXx_ -** **xXx - oOo - oOo** **-** **xXx**

**-(WMD)-**

**My sister hates this story~ lol**

**My work here is done. XD**

**(I'm sorry this story wasn't as light as my usual style, I was seeing if I could write a half way decent drama/tragedy, since that's not really my strong suit. I think it turned out pretty _okay. _Though, I might be fooling myself.)**

**Please, tell me what you think.**

**I hope at least one person liked it.**

**Author's notes**

**I realize that America and Canada were _not the entirety_ of the New World, and that I left out alot of other countries. However, I did say that this was not going to be historically accurate in anyway shape or form.**

**I also realize that the World wouldn't simply turn a blind eye to England, even after they destroyed America and toppled the British Empire. But I had to make America a martyr somehow, so it still followed the song.**

**Matho = Bear in Lakota *Can also be spelled Mato***

**Aklark = Bear in Inuit -brown bear- **

**They both call each other "bear" *It's a headcannon of mine***

**Doksa ake waunkte = I will see you again later. (Implied on earth/spirit world.) *Also Lakota***

**Also, I don't hate England or think he's evil in any way. This was purely for the benefit of the story.**


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